


Ferrum Gloria

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Temporary Character Death, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7906093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares have been plaguing your dreams lately. What could they mean, and what effect will they have on your relationship?</p><p>(I really don’t want to spoil the story, but I want people to know that reader does take her own life. It is non-permanent and is described very briefly, but I don’t want to risk anyone getting triggered.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferrum Gloria

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a part of [@torn-and-frayed](http://torn-and-frayed.tumblr.com/) ‘s Songs of Supernatural Season 1 Challenge! The song I chose was [In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida by Iron Butterfly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIVe-rZBcm4). ‘Ferrum Gloria’ is latin for Iron Butterfly- or at least that’s what google translate told me. Heh. This is the first challenge I’ve ever done, so let me know what you thought!

You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take. You spent too many nights waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing from your dreams. There wasn’t much to them, just darkness and a sense of foreboding. They’d been happening for what seemed like a month now, slowly eating away at you.

What scared you was the fact that lately they’d gotten worse. They began to feel even more real and you couldn’t understand what they meant. Dreams were the brain’s way of dealing with life, right? So what could your dreams possibly be about?

You were glad for the consistency and monotony of daily life to distract you from your situation. You climbed out of your bed slowly, careful not to wake your boyfriend in the process. He grumbled in his sleep at the movement, pulling his pillow in closer to his face before settling with a small soft sigh.

You jumped in the shower, humming as you washed your hair. Humming always helped calm you down, and you needed all the calm you could get. As you finished up and wrapped your towel around you, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing a very cute sleepy-looking Dean. He smirked at you, the early hour no hindrance to his flirting.

“If I knew you were showering, I would’ve joined you. Made sure you didn’t miss any spots.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at him. “Of course you would’ve. You also would’ve taken so long that I’d be late for work.” You patted his chest as you walked past him, keeping him in your peripheral. Reaching into your underwear drawer, you noticed he’d made no move to take his turn in the shower.

“I left plenty of hot water for you babe, no worries,” you said. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorway, watching you.

“Well, now I’d rather watch my wet girlfriend get dressed. Plus I think I’d need a cold shower after seeing you like this.”

You dipped your head, trying to hold back a smile. Your hand wrapped around an old tee, chucking it at him. His hands whipped out to catch the offending garment as you laughed. “Just get in the shower, idiot.”

He smiled at you and winked, enjoying the playfulness the two of you shared. He headed into the bathroom, shedding his t-shirt as he went, letting it join the one you threw at him on the floor. You watched him retreat, watching the play of muscles in his back, trying not to swoon at the sight.

You got dressed and headed to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast. As you spread the cream cheese over your bagel, strong solid arms wrapped around your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, the scent of his shampoo tickling at your nose. He planted a kiss on your neck, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Don’t you know that I love you?” he asked. You paused, unsure if his question was serious. You set your bagel down, turning in his arms and searching his eyes. The dark stormy green told you his question was serious. You smiled softly at him, cupping his cheek. Kissing each corner of his mouth, his nose, his forehead and his chin before laying a sweet kiss on his mouth, you showered him in love.

“I know, honey. You show me you do every day.” You smiled at him, holding his face in your hands. His arms around you tightened, as if you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on hard enough.

“You know I’ll always be true too?” he asked, turning his face in your hands to press a kiss to your palm. “There’s nobody else for me. Just you. Always you.”

His words melted your heart, love nestling deep in your chest, blooming large and tall like a sunflower, basking in the warm glow. You pressed your lips to his, reveling in the soft glide. You stood there sharing kisses, your now cold bagel forgotten on the counter.

Lost in warm kisses, a twinge at the back of your head was barely noticed. As it persisted and grew, you pulled away, pressing the butt of your hand to your forehead. You hissed at the pain thumping away in your temples. Dean stood close, holding you by the arms, obviously concerned for your wellbeing like he always was. You could tell he was talking to you, but as you closed your eyes you could hardly understand what he was saying.

Images from your nightmares flashed behind closed lids, more vivid than the dreams themselves. You saw chains, streaks of red spread across dark dirty concrete flooring. Your arms suddenly ached as if they’d been nearly torn from their sockets, and soreness settling over your body. Blue light flashed at the edges of your vision, a detail not from your dreams.

You could feel the ice cold floor against your bare feet, while your head lolled back and forth. The stench that reached your nostrils made you want to vomit, a harsh contrast to the smell of Dean’s shampoo. Blue light swirled up around you, grasping your neck in a tight vice-like grip. You struggled for air, inhaling around the tightness. All of a sudden, the grip on your throat disappeared, and you sucked in air greedily. Your heavy breathing filled the silence, until you heard familiar voices low and warm. Your haze kept you from understanding most of what was said, but the tone was comforting, gruff, and all too familiar.

“Okay… killed… wake up… come back… need you… things to say… not yet”

In a moment all too similar to the moment you hang there, waiting for the roller coaster to drop you, time paused before your entire body reacted. Going boneless, it felt like you returned to your body all at once. Your eyes slid open, Dean watching you. You were sprawled out on the floor in Dean’s arms, his worried voice pouring over you.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?”

Your hand went to your face, pressing against your cheek. You looked around, unsettled. Uncertainty rose in your chest, slowly consuming you. Looking back at Dean, you knew there was something wrong.

This was wrong. _He_ was wrong.

Panic settled in and you pushed at him. He gave you a look, confused at the action. “What’s wrong?”

You pushed at him again, distancing yourself. Pushing up on to wobbly legs, you swung around the kitchen island, using it to hold yourself up as you put it between the two of you. You shook like a leaf, silent tears streaming down your face. The horrified look Dean was giving you cut to the bone, but you tried to ignore the pain. You felt cold and deadly in that moment, numb to everything around you.

“You don’t love me,” you gasped out. “You don’t love me.”

His face crumpled, repulsed by the notion. “Of course I love you, sweetheart. What about what I said earlier? You don’t believe me?” He moved closer to you and you took a step back at the motion. He stopped, raising his hands in a placating manner. You gazed at him, upset at yourself. How could you have been so blind? How could you have let your mind be twisted so easily?

You reached behind you and grabbed a knife from the knife block sitting on the counter. Dean’s eyes followed the blade, saucering as you raised it to your chest. “Sweetheart, calm down. Everything’s okay. I need you to put down the knife. Can you do that for me?”

You couldn’t handle it. His words broke something in you. “You’re not REAL!” you screamed. “You’re not real, NONE OF THIS IS REAL!”

His body flickered momentarily, as if he was a hologram. You were 100% sure now.

You and the boys were hunting a djinn. On a trip to the store, you were assaulted, blue light swirling in tendrils all around you. The djinn jumped you and put you under. Your dreams weren’t dreams, they were the complete opposite. You were stuck in a dream, the dream a wish you never dared voice.

Happy with Dean.

The boys talked about the other times they’d hunted djinn and you knew what you had to do. There was only one escape. You knew you couldn’t stay here, knowing it was all a lie. Sure, you wanted nothing more to wake up to Dean’s kisses, but it wasn’t true and it wasn’t really him. There was nothing to hold onto here.

You raised the knife to your chest, watching fake Dean’s hands dart out to you. You plunged the knife into your body, letting go when it lodged its way into your torso. Fake Dean rushed over, letting your body fall into his arms as he laid you on the ground. The knife stayed where you put it, sticking out of your chest, blood gushing out around it. You looked up at him, blackness creeping in on the edges of your vision. “You’re not real,” you whispered as he disappeared.

* * *

Recognition was immediate. You shot up, immediately on the defense. Arms out, you assessed the room you found yourself in. A motel room from the looks of it, grungy and decrepit like the ones you usually frequented. Movement to your side had you whipping your body away in defense. A chair pulled next to the bed had one Dean Winchester occupying it. He was awake, hands held up in a placating gesture like the one in your dream.

Not a dream, a nightmare. Definitely a nightmare.

No weapons anywhere in sight, you bolted on uneasy feet to the opposite wall. You pressed your back to the wall, forcing anything to attack you head-on. Your hands clenched into tight balls, prepared to fight tooth and nail.

Dean stood slowly, hands still up. “Sweetheart, you’re okay now. We killed the djinn. It’s over. It’s safe.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, unsure if you were thrown into another dream- _nightmare_. Dean walked slowly toward you, trying to gauge your feelings.

As he started to near you, you pressed your back harder into the wall. He noticed your movement and stopped short. He flipped his hands over, palms upward and extended them to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

Eyes flicking between his hands and his face, you squeaked out a choked “Don’t.” Tears pooled in your eyes, your heart screaming at you. He stopped again, waiting for you. Gazing into his eyes, you managed a “Please, don’t.”

His stormy eyes looked you over, unsure what to do exactly. “Tell me what to do here, just tell me.”

You shook your head fervently, your voice stuck in your throat. The motion shook the tears from your eyes, making them trail down your face. Everything felt like a weird case of deja vu.

Dean stood there unmoving, waiting. After a while of standing there, the door whipped open, startling you. You jolted as Dean’s head whipped around at the intrusion. Your startled and scared mind had you flinging yourself to the corner of the room, wedged between the wall and the nightstand. Curling into a tight ball, you tried to stop your shaking. Your muscles were sore from the tension in your body, nerves singing and oversensitive.

Hushed voices carried through the room, harried and low. You sat there, footsteps drawing near before you were looking at the two Winchester boys. Sam looked concerned while Dean looked damn near heartbroken. Dean crouched in front of you, close enough without being in your space. “Sweetheart, I promise all of this is real. Sammy’s here, I’m here, _you’re_ here. We killed that son of a bitch that took you and brought you back to the motel. We cleaned you up and waited for you to wake up. _This_ is real.”

You looked at him, then looked down at your hands. Your wrists were bright red, chafed as if you were tied up. You realized that your feet were bare too, a detail from your previous ‘dream’ that lined up with the djinn story.

“Think about it,” Sam said, finally speaking up. “What is different this time? Does it feel the same as your dream?”

You thought about it, shaking your head. It didn’t feel the same deep down. Dean was still concerned about your well being, but it just _felt_ different. Actually, the more you thought about it you realized something.

You never saw anyone else except Dean in the nightmare.

“You.” The boys looked at you, unsure of what you were talking about. “You, Sam. You weren’t in my dream.”

Relief washed over their faces, the tension in the room dissipating. Dean smiled at you, holding out his hand to you yet again. “Take my hand?”

You looked at his proffered hand, then up at his face. His eyes pleaded with you to take his hand, asking you to trust him. Your eyes darted to Sam. He nodded encouragingly, letting you know it was safe too. Slowly, you unclenched your fists, muscles cramped from use. Shakily, you extended your arm as Dean waited for you to come to him first.

Your fingers brushed his palm, tentative in the contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from it, since Dean always did run warm. You let your fingers drag along the contours of his hand before curling them around the edge, grasping it firmly- palm to palm.  Dean’s fingers curled around your hand, squeezing lightly. He pulled a little, coaxing you from your spot on the floor. You followed his tug, and he pulled you into his embrace.

His arms were strong but gentle around you, holding you to him as you lay limply in his arms. Slowly as his warmth seeped into your body, your arms came up to return the embrace, fingers digging into the shirt he wore. You clutched to him like a lifeline. He started humming, a tune you often hummed to yourself while trying to calm down.  You noticed that your trembling stopped, and your breathing was in time with Dean’s. Nuzzling your face into his chest, you breathed in the familiar scent of him- warm and dangerous, the smell of whiskey, gunpowder, and a woodsy musk all his own.

“Dean,” you whispered “I-” He hushed you, bringing one hand up to pet your hair.

“I was scared I was going to lose you in that warehouse,” he admitted. You heard the open and close of a door, Sam leaving the two of you alone. “I ripped that son of a bitch’s throat out and came for you. When Sammy and I found you, you were tied up. You kept going in and out of semi-consciousness and when I carried you out of there, I was afraid you weren’t going to wake up again. I realized there were so many things I never told you and I was being an idiot trying to deny the way I felt.”

You pulled away, looking into his eyes. They sparkled in the low light, something that fake Dean could never replicate. This was truly real.

His hand cupped the side of your face, large and warm against your skin. His eyes searched yours, then took a deep cleansing breath as he prepared himself.

“You mean the world to me. You’re the one I go to sleep thinking about. You’re the one I want to drink whiskey with. You’re the one I want to stitch me up. You’re the one I want to reach over and touch- to hold hands with while we’re driving down some back road in the middle of nowhere.”

“Dean, I-”

“Just let me get through this, sweetheart. I know I’m shit at the whole ‘feelings’ thing. Hell, I’m shit at the whole ‘relationship’ thing, but- you make me want to try. Every relationship I’ve had was based on lies. I lied to Cassie. I lied to Lisa. With you, it was always the truth. You knew who I was- who I really was. You accepted me as-is and didn’t try to change me. I could never deserve someone like you, but I would die trying to. I just needed you to know.”

You gazed at him, holding back tears as one rolled down his own face. Words escaped you as the man before you held you like you were sand slipping through his fingers. You let go of his shirt and moved your arms from around his waist to his neck, pulling him in toward you. Your head rest next to his, your lips by his ear as your left hand dragged blunt nails across his scalp.

“I dreamt of _you_ , Dean.” you whispered in his ear. “ _You_ were my wish.”

His arms tightened around you, holding you close.

“You’re _mine_.” he said.


End file.
